Aug 23, 1996
We arrived at the border to and leaving Jordan was a mere formality. Arriving in Syria, did not go a s planned. Glenn was taken away for questioning. Why ? Don't know, but Stevie had to drive the truck across the border, but before he could do that, a Syrian border guard with a dodgy wig, demanded to see our passports. We did this, and then what seemed like an eternity, actually only about eight minutes, Glenn jumped back onto the truck, and we headed for Damascus. The oldest city in the world. It was quite amazing seeing the landscape change from desert to green vegetation. It felt like another part of the world. We parked the truck at a campground, set the tents up, and decided to go for a wander around Damascus. Lovely walled city, where we had some awesome kebabs. Then we had to hit the mosques. Before we could enter, all the girls had to don these huge jacket/dress/poncho things with a hood to keep their hair from showing. These mosques, were sensational. I had never seen anything like them before. There was also a wall that divided the males from the females. As well, there was a separate room where according to our guide, the son in-law of the prophet Mohammed's head was stored. Many people were crying and wailing and when we asked why, we were told, he had been killed in Iran and his head brought back here, and these people were Iranians begging for forgiveness for there past family atrocities. We left and continued walking the markets, and then the police moved in and grabbed our guide. Now our guide, was the unregistered variety, and to save him from arrest, we had to go to the relatives of the police's shop and make a purchase. We went up, we came down straight away, leaving Wacko and Jacko up there. Now Wacko, in a sense, is a big woman, being of the islander type, but even she was small compared to the Syrian woman demanding money, so, all she could do was buy up and leave. No rest for the wicked. Sadly, not all went well for me, upon seeing a kid blowing a flute, I asked for a go, he then demanded money off of me. I tried to run, and I was mobbed by around forty kids. Next thing, another Aussie, wondering what was going on in this huge group of people, pushed his way in. We once again tried to escape, but could not leave. I gave money, but I now owned the flute As it was our turn to cook for the group, we bought some fresh chickens, and made a batch of chicken cacciatore which was washed down with the Heineken that we found in the markets !!!!!